Delicate Control
by SpangleBangle
Summary: On a blustery evening in Westchester, New York, Charles tries to help Erik refine his ability... not altogether successfully. And even if everyone is asleep, that doesn't mean your secret is safe. X-Men First Class, Erik/Charles. Smut.


Hello there C: My goodness, an update ^^' I've been stupidly busy since the summer, hence the lack of anything resembling activity here. I'm not dropping anything I had started a couple of months ago, don't worry. I just had this half written for months and then I watched X Men First Class again last night, and was inspired to finish it.

Hope you all like C:

I'm kinda planning to continue this, let me know if you'd be interested.

Warning - contains smut. That's not really a surprise though, is it?

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><p>On a night when most people would be at home in bed, clutching at their covers and relishing the warmth they provided as the winds howled, there were two men awake and watching the storm rage around the mansion-like house they now called home, in Westchester, New York.<p>

"Magnificent, isn't it Erik," the shorter man said, eyes shining in the dimmed light as he watched. "You know, it's moments like this I wonder about the world, if it isn't so bad after all. Despite all we humans have done to harm it… and each other."

He glanced almost gently at his companion, Erik, who looked down with his left arm clenched.

"It makes me think that no matter how much we might strive to control our environment, and bend the world to our will… there are some things out of our control, and always will be." He continued.

"You're too naïve, Charles," Erik sighed. "Humans will always find a way to tame something, once they put their mind to it. They're very good at capturing and controlling things they don't like."

Charles put his hand on Erik's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said softly, frowning in concern at his friend's averted face. "I know this day is painful for you."

"If I hadn't bent the gates," Erik said, his voice regaining a slight German accent, "She might still be alive. It's my fault."

Charles tightened his grip on Erik's shoulder. "You know that's not true. Those camps… but look at what you can do now, Erik. Yes, it was this day you discovered what you could do. But it doesn't have to be a sad day. Hm?"

Eric shook his head, looking out at the leaves blown about. "I cannot pass this day without wondering; if I hadn't revealed myself to Schmidt, would my mama be alive? It was because I couldn't move a coin that he shot her. It's my… inadequacy, that killed her as much as the bullet."

"Eric, my friend," Charles said firmly, drawing his gaze. "You are in no way inadequate. Look at what you can do now, not with hate but with peace in your heart."

"Right, that place between rage and serenity," Erik replied, smiling slightly despite himself at the open earnestness on Charles' face.

"Right," Charles smiled. "Well, I have an idea."

Eric made an interested noise.

"Why don't you put down that Deutschmark," he said gently, digging into his pocket, "And hold onto this for me instead."

Eric put the German coin he had been handling down on the windowsill and accepted the Sterling pound that Charles placed in his palm.

"That's my lucky coin," Charles smiled. "When we moved here from England, I took this from my mother's purse on the day we got on the boat. I don't know why I did it, except to maybe remind me of home. I've kept it in my pocket ever since, and I like to think it's brought me luck. It's funny, the sentiment we attach to objects."

Eric looked down at it, weighing it in his hand. "Charles, why are you telling me this?"

"I want you to have it," he said easily, closing Erik's fingers over it firmly. "That Deutschmark will always remind you of her death. If you insist on keeping it, take this as well. To remind you that you have friends who will always be here for you."

"You really want me to have this?"

Charles nodded seriously, his fingers tight over Erik's. Erik couldn't hold his gaze and turned back to watch the storm, artfully ignoring the fact that Charles may as well have been holding his hand, and wasn't letting go. It made his heart pound painfully in his chest.

"Charles," he said quietly after a few moments, "How are you so good? To me, to Raven… even to our enemies."

"It's just who I am, I suppose. When you've been inside someone's head, and seen all their flaws, their hopes and dreams, their best and worst moments, how can you do anything but try and learn from their mistakes?" He looked out at the storm as well. "And they don't have to be our enemies, Erik."

"Let's not talk about enemies and sides tonight, Charles," Erik said wearily. "That wasn't what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" Charles said softly.

Eric bowed his head and spoke in the same tone, but more hesitantly. "How is it you can forgive their crimes, not even knowing what they have done?"

"I may not agree with their actions, but I can understand what drove them to it," Charles replied, with far too much understanding. He had promised never to read Erik's mind without his permission, but it seemed that his few visits had given him an intimate look into Erik's life. Charles pulled him a little closer, roughly squeezing his shoulder. "That's how I can forgive them, Erik. That's why I have forgiven you for taking lives even when I object to it."

Eric couldn't reply, overwhelmed, but he gripped the coin tighter. Charles smiled. "Come on," He said brightly, "That's quite enough maudlin behaviour from the both of us. Let's see how that delicate control is coming along."

Standing up, Charles placed a handful of ball bearings on his palm and gave a large, unwieldy lump of slag metal to Erik.

"Try and knock just one ball, from the centre of the pile, out of my hand with that."

Eric looked at him sceptically, but Charles just smiled. "Try it. I know you can do it."

"This is a waste of time, you know," Erik said, extending his hand anyway and frowning in concentration.

There was absolute silence for a few moments, then the lump of metal shot out of Erik's hand and slammed into the back of Charles' hand, scattering the ball bearings everywhere.

After a moment, Charles said dryly, "That didn't count. Try again."

This time Erik managed to steer the lump to hover over the centre of Charles' palm before it dropped. "This lump is more coke than metal."

"Exactly," Charles said, smiling on. "You'll rarely get perfect alloys to play with, Erik. You should know that."

"It's as unwieldy as wet soap on a slip-and-slide. And besides, why bother when I can just do _this_?" With a stern expression, Erik reached out with his mind and the ball bearing at the centre of Charles' palm rose up smoothly to hover in the air between them.

"That's not the point, Erik," Charles said, trying to sound cross but smiling as Erik made the ball bearing fly slowly around his head. "What would happen if you had to use a tool instead of acting upon the object directly, and you couldn't do it? What if Schmidt had some sort of protection, a completely non-metal room or something of that kind? You would not be able to touch him. So, using a tool to come to your aid seems rather useful, doesn't it? No matter what its composition."

Eric summoned the lump back to his hand and grinned slightly at his companion. "You're far too good at arguing with people, do you know that?"

Charles laughed, plucking the floating ball bearing from the air. "It aggravates Raven no end."

"I can see why," Erik replied, grinning wider at Charles' mock-hurt face.

With laughter in his heart, Erik guided the lump carefully towards Charles, keeping his eyes not on the metal but on his friend's smiling face. The lump slowly dipped to touch a ball bearing and a minute later, the ball bearing was performing loops of eight with the lump in the air between them.

"Wonderful, Erik! Wonderful!" Charles exclaimed, open joy on his face. "I would applaud, but my hand is a little occupied right now."

With a short bark of laughter, Erik lifted the ball bearings from Charles' hand and introduced them into the figure of eight with consummate skill, earning his applause.

"See what you can do when you put your mind to it, Erik?" Charles enthused, walking over to sit beside him as they watched the metal spinning in an almost hypnotising pattern, arms resting on the back of the sofa.

Eric kept half his attention on the ball bearings and turned the rest of it to Charles, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Where are the kids?" Erik said quietly, watching the reflected light from the ball bearings wash over Charles' face.

Charles glanced at him questioningly, but touched his temple with two fingers anyway, questing out through the house in search of the other minds.

"All asleep in their rooms," Charles answered after a moment, still looking at him curiously.

"So it's just us awake?"

"Yes, Erik. What is it?"

Eric smiled slightly. "Why ask questions to which you already know the answer?" He leaned in close, one hand reaching out to cup Charles' cheek and pull him closer. He made a vague gesture to his head, smiling. "I felt you looking around in here, Charles. Tsk tsk, you promised not to do that."

"I figured with what you have in mind, you wouldn't get too angry about it," Charles replied with a grin, wetting his lips and closing the rest of the distance between them as their lips gently touched.

"Hm, you're right," Erik murmured between their lips, his hand holding Charles close and deepening the kiss slowly, savouring the heat of the moment. "I still can't believe you're alright with… this."

Charles ran his thumb over Erik's stark cheekbone and looked him right in the eyes. "You're the most astounding man I've ever met, Erik. How could I fail to be 'alright' with managing to earn your affection?"

"I still find it strange that someone as kind, gentle, and clever as you would want to bother with even being friends with someone like me," Erik admitted, welcoming the knowledge that he could say such things to Charles, who knew him even better than he knew himself. There was no risk of embarrassing himself, because Charles knew what he meant. One of his arms snaked around Charles' waist and his palm rested on the small of the professor's back, holding him closely.

"Erik," Charles said gently, placing his hand square over his friend's heart, "Don't say things like that. You're better than you think you are." He leaned in and parted his lips around Erik's, at the same time gently brushing his consciousness with Erik's.

_Will you let me in? _he asked telepathically, his voice clear in Erik's head.

_Yes, _Erik thought, his voice a little indistinct from the distraction of Charles' mouth. The telepath carefully worked his way into Erik's mind, then said, _Follow._

_What? _Erik slurred.

Charles smiled and withdrew back into his own head, tugging at Erik's consciousness to carry him along.

_You're in my mind now, Erik. Take a look. _

Clumsily, even though he had Charles to guide him, he explored the telepath's consciousness, wondering at the rush of images and sensations. _Is this what you see, when you read people's minds? It's incredible._

_Yes, it is,_ Charles replied, and Erik felt his smugness like the heat from a fire. _But look here._

Charles directed him to a peaceful corner of his mind, which seemed to emanate a sense of sweet contentment. Once there, he found… a very strange thing.

He had known that how people regard each other was unique to the individual, but here in Charles' mind he looked at himself through his lover's eyes, and was astounded.

The complexity of the images he saw made it impossible to translate into words, only feelings. Charles saw him as a flawed man, yes, but the flaws only made his feelings burn brighter. He saw himself in loving detail, not exaggerated but… enhanced, somehow. It was as if Charles could see his feelings as well as his face, and the two were bound up together. It was by no means a perfect picture, but it was far kinder and more forgiving than anything Erik had ever thought about himself, even in his better moments.

_You're better than you think you are, Erik. My dear friend, don't you see? _Charles said, the warm affection of his mind folding around Erik's consciousness like an embrace.

Eric had no words, he felt like his head was swimming with the wealth of impressions Charles had just shared with him. In confusion, he drew back and Charles let him, helping his consciousness find his body again and pulling back from the kiss, though he still stroked Erik's cheek with a gentle smile.

Eric found himself unable to meet Charles' gaze after such an intimate look in his mind. At that moment he didn't know if he wanted to lay down with Charles and kiss him into oblivion or curl up into a ball and cry.

"The ball bearings, Erik, look at them," Charles said softly after a moment. Erik followed his gaze and was mildly surprised to see that they had remained suspended in the air, forming a picture of Charles' face, paused in laughter. "It's wonderful what you can do, Erik. _You're _wonderful."

"Enough talk," Erik whispered, and kissed Charles hard on the mouth with an urgent passion. Charles smiled into his mouth and let Erik slip inside, knowing that he found words hard and action easier.

The heat between then grew as it had many times before until all they could think was of the urgency of touch, gasping for breath between needy kisses and grabbing at each other's clothes.

A foreign brush of hot lust touched Erik's mind and he pulled back from Charles, whose cheeks were flushed and his eyes half-lidded. "Careful not to project, now," Erik teased him. "We don't want anyone peeping in."

With a slight rush of panic Charles swept through the mansion again, checking to see if anyone could have been alerted to what they were doing by his unintentional slip. He sighed in relief; everyone was still asleep, no one had felt anything.

They always had this problem – the closer Charles got to climax the less control he had over his telepathy, and he tended to project his feelings whether he wanted to or not. The trick was to keep as tight a control as possible for as long as he could, so that if anyone picked up on his slip they would think he had just achieved a difficult challenge, rather than the tell-tale waves and spikes of pleasure that would make it obvious what he was doing, and who he was doing it with as well.

It wasn't that they were ashamed of their feelings… but just as their peers could not accept mutants, they couldn't accept women or black people as equal, or men like them. Considering Hitler's approach to it and Erik's experience in the camps, Charles was rather astounded Erik had not gone into denial about his rather lustful feelings for his friend.

Plus it was nice to have a secret, sometimes.

"You're still projecting," Erik murmured, bending his head to kiss the delicate skin beneath Charles' ear. "And while it's rather flattering, I suggest you stop before someone gets curious." He sucked a little on the skin.

"You're making it rather difficult to concentrate," Charles replied, running a hand through Erik's short hair.

"If I can make those ball bearings hover without realising it, surely the great professor can bear through a little distraction?" Erik said teasingly, pushing up Charles' shirt with one hand to rest on his stomach.

"The two matters are entirely different," Charles protested, his mind only half on what he was saying; the other half was trying to control the impulse to better concentrate on Erik, his telepathy be damned.

"False," Erik smiled. "Now concentrate, Charles. A clever man such as yourself should be able to multitask, hm?"

"You forget I've had Raven to do that for me," Charles laughed breathlessly as his shirt was stripped from him and Erik's lips began exploring his pale skin. He groaned under his breath and pulled Erik back up by the lapel to kiss him passionately.

There were no more words for some time as they lost themselves in heady sensation, Charles' thoughts at a low burn at the edge of their consciousness; he was managing to control himself pretty well, even when Erik began to strip himself down. He knew what the other man wanted and couldn't bring himself to protest, despite their surroundings and the fact that the others could find them if they chose.

Something of his thoughts must have been communicated to Erik, however, for he glanced up and with a flick of his fingers locked the doors, ensuring they would not be disturbed. "There now Charles," He murmured into the professor's ear. "Safe. Just us in here."

"You're a handy fellow to have around," Charles grinned, his hands sliding over the sleekly toned muscles of Erik's chest and back.

"Yes, I am," Erik smirked, holding his hand up and summoning Charles' metal belt buckle into it, pulling the rest of the belt with it. He moved his finger in a nodding motion and Charles' trousers, pulled by the metal in them, dropped down to his knees and then onto the floor.

Charles smiled slyly up at him and slipped his long-fingered hands down to Erik's waist and manually performed to same service, ghosting over the prominent bulge of his groin with a grin at Erik's hiss of pleasure. His eyes were bright as his hand moved in slow motions over Erik's groin, stroking and rubbing with increasing pressure.

"Enough," Erik choked after several moments of bliss, seizing Charles' upper arms and turning him around to face the back of the sofa. He knelt behind the professor and moved his hands down, pleasuring him in return with their bodies pressed tight together.

Charles arched his back into Erik, gasping and groaning with his control slipping slightly more with each brush of Erik's fingers. He grabbed the back of the sofa and squeezed it tight, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. Erik laughed low in his throat and yanked Charles' underwear down around his knees so he was naked, trapped between the sofa back and Erik's body.

"Ready, Charles?" Erik murmured into his ear, spreading Charles' thighs with his knees and slipping his own underwear off so they knelt skin to skin. Charles groaned and angled his hips just right, his position screaming louder than words that oh God yes he was ready.

Erik chuckled and pushed smoothly inside Charles, both of them groaning in pleasure at the sensation.

"Go," Charles gasped, sweat breaking out on his forehead at the stress of containing his telepathy under such duress.

Erik kissed his shoulder in agreement and began thrusting deep into the professor, his hands moving in time to pleasure him. The wood of the sofa creaked with each thrust that pinned the smaller man to it but neither cared; the only sounds they heard were ragged breath and moans of ecstasy. Sweat glued them together and Erik's motions became more urgent as they rocked closer and closer to release, Charles crying out every so often as a soft spot inside him was stimulated. Erik shushed him half-heartedly, torn between wanting to hear him groan at full volume and not wanting others to find them.

"Watch yourself, Charles," Erik murmured unsteadily, feeling Charles' emotions swimming in the air around them, projected carelessly in hot, pulsating waves.

"I'm trying," Charles gasped. "But I'm so close, I can't…"

"_Ja,_" Erik said gently and kissed under his ear. "It's alright."

With that he thrust hard into him, his hands clutching and furiously stroking Charles' manhood until, with a loud gasp, Charles tensed up all over and let out a long moan of ecstasy, his pleasure made liquid spurting in Erik's hands. Erik followed suit a second later, driving deep into the smaller man and dropping his forehead to rest on the telepath's shoulder. They gasped for breath but otherwise didn't move for some minutes.

When his heart rate had calmed to something approaching normal, Erik lifted his head and tenderly kissed Charles' neck. He looked around the room and felt his heart stop for a moment.

Someone was looking in.

He felt the blood rush from his head in a sickening wave. It was Hank. He was looking in through the gap between door and jamb, wide eyed and with an astonished expression visible even in the low light. Their eyes were stuck on each other and Erik couldn't move a muscle. The moment stretched unbearably as Erik waited for Hank to say something or do something.

"Erik?" Charles said quietly, lifting his head and turning slightly to look at his lover. Erik blinked, startled out of the moment and between one heartbeat and the next Hank was gone, sped away on his huge, silent feet. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong," Erik assured him, kissing his mouth gently and stroking a hand down Charles' thigh. He wondered for a moment why the telepath hadn't sensed Hank at the door – but then again, his head was probably a little scrambled in the aftermath. "Nothing's wrong at all."

"Mm, good. We should probably get dressed, in case someone comes," Charles suggested regretfully, rather content in his position stuck tight against Erik's strong body. "I think my control slipped a lot towards the end."

"I know," Erik smiled, kissing him again and holding him close. "Sex with a telepath… it's interesting."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean that I could feel everything you were feeling," Erik smirked. "It's rather intense."

Charles coughed uncomfortably and shifted his hips again in a rolling motion that enabled Erik's member to slide back out from his rear. They cleaned themselves up and dressed again. Charles seemed perfectly content and happy, and Erik felt the glow of satisfaction as well; though it was tainted a little by the nagging fear that Hank would expose them.

"Come on, let's to bed," Charles said with a smile. "It's rather late."

"Yes," Erik murmured. "Big day tomorrow."

Charles hesitated at the door. "I hope you're feeling better about today, my dear friend."

Erik swallowed with difficulty. "Yes, Charles. Thank you."

Charles smiled at him and slipped out the door, leaving his lover to shake his head and smile at Charles' strange ways.

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><p>There you go C:<p>

I had Love Love by Take That pretty much on repeat the whole time I was writing this ^^' It's about the only Take That song I can stand, but whatever. See you guys around, hopefully in chapter two of this or elsewhere.


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